


when the ocean met the city

by mattysones



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Demigods, M/M, Magic, Rating May Change, Sphynx, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, ikiryou
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-03 18:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16331153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattysones/pseuds/mattysones
Summary: Pidge turned Matt into a cat, Shiro is astral-projecting into people's apartments, and Keith has some stuff to sort out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this working for a while and still like it but wanted to see if there was any response, basically
> 
> i feel like i need to explain this is the culmination of a few ideas i've been bouncing around, i might get into it later idk
> 
> there's a few chapters finished but i'm still working on things
> 
> anyway please comment if you're interested. I thrive off of feedback

_Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers_

_Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters_

\--Florence and the Machine

* * *

Keith squinted to see two balconies above and one balcony over, attempting to see over the hand railing, past a tumble of Morning Glories that were threatening to grow into the balcony above it. A quick sniff confirmed that, yes, Lance was outside, humming and watering his plants. Water dripped onto the balcony below - Keith was gonna hear from Mrs. Ranford again - and the scent of damp earth reached his nose if he focused hard enough.  
  
"Keith," Pidge called from inside, "I'm almost done."  
  
Keith drooped and shuffled back inside, closing the screen door. Pidge's apartment reeked of chemicals, littered with the remains of burnt plants and brightly colored bottles of something-or-others, Keith didn't know. The smells didn't used to bother him, but now they did.  
  
"Thirst more." Pidge said flatly.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about." And he didn't, mostly. Sometimes Pidge talked about things assuming he knew what she was saying, and this was one of those things. He flopped down on the floor in front of her very burnt coffee table, marked with chalk and ash, to watch her finish dumping a bright green mixture into a beaker with a dark blue mixture.  
  
She glanced at her kitchen clock, which read "PARTY" on every spot where a number should be, "It's six-thirty, which means Lance is checking his plants and you're over there sniffing suspiciously. You don't sniff people unless you like them, or they smell particularly bad and you can't help it. Don't tell him I admitted this, but I know Lance doesn't smell bad." She didn't even grace him with a look, because she was a _brat_ , Keith scowled at her. Her little upturned nose indicated she thought she was right, maybe she was, he didn't know that either. She just watched her beaker bubble turn hot. "Thirst. More."  
  
"How do you even notice people's routines like that?" Keith complained, lounging on Pidge's couch. He pulled out his phone, "Normal people don't notice stuff like that." Which maybe wasn't entirely true, not after noticing the obvious things about each other, they had to move onto the little things.  
  
"We've been living in the same complex for two years." Pidge lifted her beaker and shook it, watching it disseminate into a pale blue color, "And Lance overshares. Here." She held out the beaker to him.  
  


**Keith**  
pidge said she thinks you smell nice

**asshole**  
I KNEW IT!!!  
  
Keith reached for the beaker and threw it back like a particularly bitter beer. It was disgusting, filling his nose with bubbles and a bitter, stale taste. He shuddered and stuck his tongue out, followed by a gagging burp.  
  
He felt his ears shrinking, which was what was supposed to happen, so he relaxed and embraced the feeling of nausea.  
  
"Okay dog breath," Pidge said cheerily, "Time for payment."  
  
Keith's stomach churned, and he hunched over, staring blurrily at Pidge's coffee table. "Give me a second." His vision blurred, and when it came back, an orange and brown-striped cat sat beside him, tail curled around its haunches and twitching at the tip. "Hi Matt." Keith tried to smile shakily.  
  
Matt meowed at him in recognition, because he wasn't actually a cat, although Keith had met some cats that were very human-like. Matt moved under the coffee table to curl into a loaf near Pidge's feet. Keith propped an elbow on his knee and pinched his nose, "Any progress?"  
  
Pidge wilted a little, and Keith would have wilted with her except the potion already made him rather wilty. She looked down at Matt, who blinked back at her. Cat or not, that's how he had to communicate. "No," she said, "Dad's working on getting me some of the rarer ingredients, since some of the plants are extremely expensive but-"  
  
It was a ramble he'd heard dozens of times, so he interrupted and Pidge wasn't put-off, "I still know some people," Keith said, sitting upright, "You know, people who are actually _witches_." Pidge was absolutely a witch in her own right. She wouldn't be in this apartment otherwise.  
  
Pidge's nose wrinkled, "Despite increasing evidence that I'm going to have to rely on _magic_ ," Pidge spit the word "magic" out with the tone of someone talking about their least-favorite coworker,"I want to keep trying this way."  
  
"The occult got you into this," Keith deadpanned, because it was true, "The occult will get you out."  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"That's not how you get a blood sample," Keith held out his arm anyway, now that his stomach had settled, "Let's make this vial quick."  
  
Pidge already had her illegally-acquired medical supplies set up. Matt meowed at her and pawed at her pants leg. Pidge looked at him for a moment before looking at Keith, "Shiro was in the apartment again, last night," she said, frowning. She lowered her vial and looked at Keith pointedly, "Is he alright?"  
  
He wasn't surprised. Keith sighed and looked at his pale arm against the black coffee table, scuffs of chalk rubbing onto his skin, "No," he said, which was true. "I'll talk to him," he shook his forearm at her, "C'mon."  
  
One blood vial draw later Keith was riding the elevator, pointedly avoiding eye-contact with a Medusa until she stepped out at the 9th floor. At the 12th floor he was greeted by heavy pop music with a bass that vibrated the floor. This was a song he liked, and his temper spiked to the beat of it.  
  
"Goddamn-" Keith growled and stalked toward door 12F, one of three other tenants that shared the floor. He banged the door with a heavy fist.  
  
There was a crash and a curse, but the music didn't turn down. The door creaked open, and there was Lotor, disheveled and sleazing all over his doorframe, "To what do I owe the pleasure Mister Kogane?"  
  
Keith bristled and crossed his arms, glaring fiercely- they were only two years apart in age, Lotor going to the college that was a fifteen minute drive from the apartment complex, a member of Epsilon-whatever and a _new_ vampire. He didn't have much frame of reference for new vampires, but Lotor was a particularly obnoxious entity regardless of his stage of life.  
  
"I've asked nicely _Mister Kon_ , three times this week. Will you _please_ ," Keith tried to keep his expression even but he was sure he was sneering, "Keep the music down? My brother is trying to sleep."  
  
Lotor's lips curled with whatever response he was about to vomit, but a girl with bright pink hair pulled into a ponytail popped over his shoulder. Keith cringed when he could smell the blood on her. She didn't try to hide the bite marks bruising her neck, "Keith!" Ezor squealed, "Surly as ever!"  
  
Lotor slimed slimily, and wrapped his arm around her waist. She was taller than him. "He was just asking us to tone down the festivities," Lotor explained, "He's particularly cranky after receiving his 'I'm not a werewolf' dose from the foul-smelling lab rat a few floors down."  
  
Ezor physically stepped between them when Keith stepped forward. She clapped her hands together in a 'oh, by the way' motion, reaching forward to scoop his hands with hers, moving too fast for him to protest, "Before you deck him-" she blinked and paused, turning his fingers over with hers, "Have you been getting manicures?"  
  
"No." Keith grumbled, tugging back half-heartedly.  
  
Ezor beamed, having decided the situation diffused _enough_ , "I have something for you. Or, for Shiro. I know he doesn't eat well. I was talking to him last week and promised to bring something," she giggled as she recounted the conversation. She turned and shouldered Lotor gently as she walked back into the apartment, "Lotor, please keep your mouth shut while I'm gone."  
  
Ezor disappeared and Lotor and Keith's eyes narrowed on each other.  
  
"Vampires don't die." Keith growled, "If you insult Pidge again I'll break your fucking neck and no one will be able to prove anything."  
  
Lotor sniffed imperiously, "Stop reprimanding me while you let your friends get away with things that bother significantly more people."  
  
The complex _had_ received more smell complaints about the Holt apartment than Lotor's music. Keith wouldn't let him know that. He probably contributed to half the complaints because of his _delicate new vampire senses_. Joke's on him, Keith had been playing this game at least a year longer and he knew exactly how sensitive new vampire senses were. Which wasn't very, compared to an older vampire.  
  
Ezor appeared with a plastic container, brimming with some kind of chicken drowned in sauce thing, "You can keep the box. It's just an old takeout box I saved."  
  
Keith accepted it, "Thank you, Ezor," he said as graciously as he could muster, "I'll give it to Shiro." He shifted his eyes to Lotor, "Lotor," he nodded and turned on his heel. He heard the door shut behind him.  
  
The music turned down, followed by another crash.  
  
When he opened the door to their apartment, he sighed heavily. All the lights were dark, Shiro sat on the couch, mostly upright while Netflix played on the television. He feasted on a bag of Cheetos with a pair of chopsticks, wearing boxer-briefs and a worn pastel pink shirt with a unicorn print. On a woman it would have reached her knees, but on Shiro it just looked like a regular night shirt. Keith knew that shirt. It was his Depression Shirt™.  
  
"Shiro," Keith groaned.  
  
"I got sad," Shiro said with a hint of defensiveness, hunching over his food like some sort of muscular Cheeto gremlin lurking in the dark. A sure sign of shame, although Keith didn't want shame, he wanted no-sad-feelings which wasn't realistic, Keith knew.  
  
He would take improvement, which this wasn't, but Keith decided not to comment. Shiro wrinkled his nose and went digging for more Cheetos, not meeting Keith's eyes, "And one of my favorite childhood shows was added."  
  
Keith threw his keys onto the table they kept next to the door. They landed on a pile of mail that had yet to be sorted, slid and fell to the floor. Keith ignored them. "You're lucky the local populace is taking pity on you," he held out the plastic food container, "From Lotor's current wench." Which wasn't fair, but Keith was grumpy.  
  
Shiro brightened and put down his chopsticks to receive the offering. He held the box up to inspect the contents, "She said she was making curry," Shiro said happily, "And don't call her that, I like her."  
  
"I like her too." Keith grumbled. He actually liked most of Lotor's girlfriends. It was _Lotor_ he wished would trip into a pile of dog shit. He plopped on the couch next to Shiro, "I'm sleeping in the bed for a few hours. I'm picking up a third at the cafe."  
  
Shiro's face flickered with guilt and Keith didn't like that either. Brightly colored explosions went off on the television, followed by cartoonish voices and noises. "You shouldn't have to-"  
  
"Shut up." Keith tilted his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, "You're up anyway. I'm doing it because I want to."  
  
Shiro's shoulders hunched and he tapped his fingers, and his false fingers against the food container, "I should get another-"  
  
Keith grabbed a couch pillow and beaned Shiro in the face. Shiro spluttered indignantly and clutched his food so it wouldn't spill. "If I wasn't holding precious goods-!"  
  
"You'd what?" Keith laughed, and stood, "throw your Cheetos at me?"  
  
"Yes!" Shiro's hair stood frizzy, "I didn't raise you this way," he groused.  
  
"Okay." Keith said sarcastically, because Shiro didn't raise him at all. As he plodded toward the bedroom, his feet slowed, remembering Pidge's comments from earlier. He lay a hand on the frame, "Hey Shiro."  
  
"What?" Shiro was doing a very good impression of sulking. Which he absolutely wasn't; he was twenty-five and twenty-five-year-old men didn't sulk even when they were depressed and eating Cheetos with chopsticks.  
  
"Have you been okay lately?" He knew the answer, and knew Shiro wouldn't give him the right one. The truthful one. Keith kept his eyes in the dark room, neatness visible in the weak lighting.  
  
Shiro sunk into the couch, having been caught being not-alright but not honest enough to admit it, and not aggressive enough to do a good job pretending otherwise. "I've been fine. Why?"  
  
Keith tapped his fingers on the door frame, "No reason," he lied. "I'll be up in like five hours."  
  
"'night," Shiro said, sounding puzzled.  
  
When Keith got up later, Shiro was asleep on the couch, the food untouched on the floor and the Cheetos threatening to spill in his lap. Keith quietly set the chip bag upright, and deposited the food in the refrigerator.  
  
Outside, Lance was sitting on building's front steps, hunched over and smoking where he wasn't supposed to. Keith took a moment to study his posture and decided that even if Lance was in a bad mood he'd want to talk. He stepped beside him, making sure to step noisily in the dark. "You said you quit," he said accusingly.  
  
Lance blew a stream of smoke away from them, glaring back with blue that was too bright in dark, "I did, but every time your friend pops up in my apartment I get spooked." Which sounded like an excuse, but was also valid.  
  
Keith didn't have much to say to that, and instead pulled out his phone and turned it to show Lance a stream of angry messages, "What did you _do_?"  
  
Lance skimmed the phone, then grinned, "I just offered to show Pidge all my beauty routines, and how _not_ to smell like failed science experiments. She didn't appreciate the last bit, WHICH," he added loudly, too dramatic to be honest, "Is _very_ rude since I give her unlimited access to my herbs."  
  
They weren't particularly close, but Keith knew him well enough to call bullshit, "Your common herb garden," Keith said flatly, "She could go to any grocery and get basil."  
  
"I'm saving her precious human money," Lance huffed.  
  
"She's a witch, not a human," Keith countered, as though he hadn't been completely human a few years back. He raised an eyebrow, "How do _you_ pay The Landlord?"  
  
Lance rolled his cigarette between his fingers and grinned, "Sacrificial offerings."  
  
"You know," Keith started to walk down the steps. The air was cold and he shivered as he left the shelter of the apartment structure, "I wouldn't be surprised."  
  
Lance snuffed his half-smoked cigarette on the sidewalk and pocketed it, "Did you get a new job?" he asked, not quite ready for Keith to leave, "I haven't seen you in that apron."  
  
Keith glanced down, remembering his black and green uniform. He tugged on the ties, "Yeah. Just a few hours, normally. Someone called off tonight."  
  
Lance was silhouetted against the lights from the apartment building, and Keith could see his body language but not his expression. "It looks nice," Lance said, propping his chin in a hand, "Aprons always look nice."  
  
Keith's face heated and he shifted with the hint that he needed to leave, "Thanks." He didn't know how to handle compliments, "See you."  
  
"Bye." Lance waved him off but lingered on the barely-lit steps. Keith didn't miss that Lance sat until he turned the corner. The back of his skull tingled with the awareness of it, but it wasn't unpleasant.  
  
He didn't like walking the streets at night, the dark made him nervous, but there didn't seem to be a lot of people. He distracted himself somewhat, wondering if The Landlord knew that he was living with Shiro, who was currently acting as a groundskeeper. He moved in two years ago to help when Shiro lost his arm and had just ... never moved out. He didn't know what he'd do if The Landlord decided to kick him out. He'd never actually met him.  
  
So he tried to pull his weight by paying half of rent and keeping Shiro out of funks. He called Shiro his brother to keep everyone from asking questions, but really they'd just known each other since before Keith had turned.  
  
He didn't know what he was going to do about Shiro appearing in people's apartments.  
  
When he walked into the cafe, the front was empty, but the back was noisy with clanging dishes and the atmosphere of busyness despite the quiet. The tables weren't wiped, and the trash needed taken out, otherwise nothing catastrophic. He frowned as he clocked in, and Hunk's anxious scent reached him before he actually saw him. Hunk was usually on top of things.  
  
"Oh thank god you're here." Hunk wailed as he darted around the kitchen . The man could move fast for someone his size. "I'm _so_ sorry, I was by myself the last few hours and there was a rush and-"  
  
Keith's mood sank as he looked at the mess in the kitchen. Hunk frantically tried to load the restaurant-sized dishwasher.  
  
"You're fine, Hunk. How long have you been here?" Keith peered out to the front - still empty.  
  
"Since noon." Hunk stopped moving for a moment, shoulders sagging with the bags under his eyes. Hunk breathed for a moment, and looked Keith up and down, "You're looking less fluffy."  
  
Keith's hand reflexively went to his totaly-normal human ears, as if they might unexpectedly pop from his hair. "Customer complaints." He said blandly, which wasn't entirely untrue, "Were you able to work on your thesis?"  
  
Hunk wilted more, anxiety radiating from his shoulders, "No," he said with the exhaustion of someone who had worked for twelve hours and achieved nothing.  
  
And here where Keith struggled; He wanted to comfort Hunk, he _did_ , but he wasn't good at comfort. He hesitantly raised a hand and clapped Hunk's shoulder, "If you take the garbage out I'll call us even. Go home."  
  
Hunks eyes flickered guiltily, looking at the mess, "But-"  
  
Keith scowled and gripped Hunk's shoulder harder, "Get out of my kitchen."  
  
Hunk gasped and was reasonably appalled, "First of all-"  
  
Keith started pushing at him to turn him out of the kitchen, "Your talents are wasted here. Get out."  
  
Once Hunk was on a tangent there was no stopping him, "I'm not disagreeing but _your_ kitchen," he allowed himself be escorted toward the front - if he was really fighting there was no way Keith could move him. Hunk ticked off points on his fingers, "You can't even make those premade abominations this place calls pastries-"  
  
It was true. Keith burnt everything. He was banned from the oven.  
  
"For a werewolf you have zero sense of taste." Hunk huffed. Keith retreated back to the kitchen while Hunk gathered the small trashcans behind the front counter ,before addressing the overflowing cans in the lobby. Once in motion, Hunk couldn't stop bustling, "I could probably give you anything and you'd say it tasted good."  
  
"That's not true," Keith called from the kitchen. He was finishing loading the washer, "I don't like cheesecake." Too sweet. Gave him stomach cramps.  
  
"The truest of tragedies." Hunk said sagely. Keith heard the front bell ring and Hunk's somewhat fake-cheerful voice, "Welcome, what can I get for you?"  
  
Keith managed to get Hunk out of the cafe a mere half an hour late. His coworker didn't arrive, so he was alone, but on third shift that was less of a problem. A few customers ordered simple drinks.  
  
Around two in the morning, an older woman with brown skin and grayish-purple hair came in, hauling a few briefcases. She set them down before approaching the counter. Keith took a moment to recognize her.  
  
"Morning miss Honerva," he greeted. He liked her - she was a regular in the month he'd been working. "How have you been?"  
  
Honerva didn't smile, rings dark under her eyes, "Venti, dark roast, I need five espresso shots, no room for cream." Her voice was hoarse, although it usually was. Keith was sure she smoked. He was a little taken aback by her demeanor but rang up her order. As if realizing her curtness, she sighed and rubbed her eyes between her fingers, "Sorry," she said, "I've been awake for two days. They want a paper sooner than expected."  
  
"They" being the research department at the college. Keith wasn't sure what she did, exactly, because Honerva wasn't the kind of person to disclose too-personal information. He charged her for three instead of five. She didn't notice.  
  
"It's fine," Keith moved to start on the espressos, "It's too early to be polite."  
  
Honerva smiled tiredly. Her eyes flickered to his hairline, having seen him working while half-transformed. He could practically see her calculating the moon cycle, "Have you had anymore trouble?"  
  
"A little." Keith said honestly while he worked, "Pidge has been helping me out."  
  
Honerva moved to unload her laptop, "I would like to meet this young woman," she commented absently, "To figure out those potions with little magic or training, she must be brilliant."  
  
"She is." Keith said fondly. He'd never say so to her face. "I've been trying to get her to reach out, but she won't listen to me." Keith couldn't hear as well over the espresso machine.  
  
"Do you know what she's researching?" Honerva asked as she sat down.  
  
Keith paused. He knew exactly what she was researching, but didn't know how much to share. "Something about reverse transfiguration," he said. "Spells without counterspells. Without using magic, or very little of it."  
  
Honerva went quiet while he walked out to deliver her drink. During the day she would sometimes chat with him, but tonight was not looking like one of those nights. He didn't think much about her mood until he met her eyes. His hair raised on his neck when she had him pinned with a critical look that reminded him of his mother's but not as warm. "It's not for you," Honerva asked, "Is it?"  
  
And somewhere in the back of his mind Keith _hoped_ Pidge's research could be for him. But it wasn't. It really wasn't. He set down Honerva's cup, "O-h. No." He bowed his head a little, "I've accepted it."  
  
Honerva picked up the cup and sniffed, still watching him critically, "I should hope so," she said, "There's no safe way to reverse blood magic."  
  
"I know." Keith agreed, because he knew.  
  
Her expression suddenly shifted, still tired but slightly more relaxed, "Thank you. Your coffees are always stronger than the others. I appreciate it." That's because he put six shots in, instead of five.  
  
She was still working when he left that morning at seven, pausing him long enough to hand him a tip. The walk back was busier than the walk there, but the rising sun had him at ease and the smell of breakfast foods made his stomach growl.  
  
He pulled out his phone, intending to make sure Shiro was awake, flicking his messages open when he saw another from Pidge.  
  
**gremlin**  
he did it again  
did you talk to him?

**Keith**  
I did. He denied everything

  
  
Keith realized he didn't need to call Shiro when he stopped in front of the apartment complex and Shiro was suspended with a harness outside a fifth story window. He called anyway, watching as Shiro shuffled around to retrieve his phone.  
  
"Shirogane."  
  
"Do you need help?" Keith asked.  
  
Shiro looked down. Keith waved at him.  
  
"No," Shiro said with a hint of amusement as he swung from the side of the building, a black dot against the blue morning sky, "I set up the couch. If you want the bed again, you can have it."  
  
"'kay." Keith said. He squinted up at the top of the apartments, Shiro looking small against twelve floors and a roof, "Who's spotting for you?"  
  
Shiro didn't speak for a moment, "Uh..."  
  
"Goddammit Shiro," Keith praised himself for not yelling. He had worked very hard to stop being a yeller. "I'll be up there in a few minutes." He hung up before Shiro could argue.  
  
He passed Lance in the lobby, who was getting a coffee from the vending-style machine installed a few years back. They met eyes but Keith was fuming so Lance just flipped his hand at him in greeting.  
  
Two hours later, after Keith chewed Shiro out and Shiro pretended to be contrite, Keith found himself at the same machine, foolishly getting a coffee when he should be trying to go to bed. He was going to be late for his first job, but Sal didn't really care.  
  
He fell asleep on the couch, drifting in and out to Shiro's ins and outs. At some point he thought he heard Pidge at the door but wouldn't think much of it until later. Keith dreamt of the ocean, being dragged under clear, shallow water filled with fish he'd never seen, surrounded by liquid warmth that filled his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Sal was a large man with grey streaks in his hair, a pencil mustache, and probably wasn't physically capable of smiling, although the likelihood of that being because of a facial injury was very high. Don't ask him about the lazy eye, he'd go into an hour and half long war-story that Keith wasn't sure was true, or at least had been told so many times it had been warped to make him sound very heroic. He _had_ served as a Marine. He had a small display set up in the auto shop's waiting area. He was very proud of it.

After finding Sal following weeks of searching for a mechanic's internship Keith was told, "I'm hard to work with and I yell a lot. I don't like talking. Can you deal with that?"

Two years later, Keith knew Sal had lied; he _loved_ to talk. He didn't like having _conversations_. 

Two years later, Keith wasn't enrolled in college anymore and Sal was still paying him. The wages from Sal weren't enough to pay for community college, so Keith's time was split between three jobs and he had only one certificate. 

"Frankly kid," Sal told him one week, "You know more about cars than I do. I'm a shit mechanic." 

He was. Keith knew this.

"I'd hire you full time but I don't want audited for overpaying under qualified workers." Sal's gaze wandered off, "Already dealt with that once. I need the paperwork from your end done."

Somehow Keith thought the situation would be self-sustaining until Sal called him into his office after wandering in three hours late.

_This is it,_ Keith thought, _He's gonna tell me not to come back._

"You're not in trouble, stop looking like yer gonna piss yourself." Sal heaved into his office chair, the only thing in the room that looked new. The office smelt of garage. "I'll get to the point - I'm selling the place."

Keith stopped, "Oh." Which was along the lines of what he'd been worrying about but not as bad, "Why?"

If Sal was physically capable of smiling, he might have done it, "I'm opening a restaurant. I hate working with cars. I'd offer it to you, but you have no money and I already have a buyer. So instead I'm giving you a two-month notice. It's time to get all the jobs in the garage out and maybe take a few small ones while I clear the space."

Keith stayed after closing, telling Sal he needed to finish with someone's aircon. He wasn't _lying_ \- an hour after Sal left, Keith stole Sal's bike.

Stealing was a strong word, he was _borrowing_. He couldn't explain the impulse; Sal could be a jackass and Keith wasn't above acting out in fits of petulant frustration. He wasn't particularly proud of his behavior, but his actions were something he could control, even for the worst.

Sal's bike was a red re-painted GL1200 Goldwing Aspencade. It was a heavy bike for a heavy man and Keith wouldn't be doing any fancy maneuvering - Keith preferred sports bikes - but he was just riding for the sake of riding. The night air was cool on his face, the freeway unoccupied.

After the initial thrill of nervousness sneaking the bike off the property, it was easy to _go_. He felt light flying across the road, hands on the rubber of the handlebars and fingers going numb with chill. He watched the trees, dark and shadowy while freeway lights flickered in his vision. He thought he'd do some thinking but he was following the tug in his chest and impulsively took a badly-lit exit that could have easily been passed if it hadn't caught his attention.

The wheels hit smooth pavement, the scent of ocean reached him. A quick glance at some signs told him he was headed toward a beach area he didn't recognize. 

Salt burned his nose, seaweed, gulls cawing in the night, noisy but distant. Keith slowed the bike to a dull hum while found a line of empty parking spots.

The sand dunes partially hid the shoreline, but he could hear the shifting tide. The wind ruffled his hair as he parked as far away from the sand as possible.

On the edge of the dune, the shoreline lay dark and quiet save for a lone lamppost, a dock nearby but not attached to any walkways. He stopped on the dune to survey the area, a small smile tugging at his mouth at the quiet of the ocean.

After he was turned, he was told his new body would be empathetic to the phases of the ocean and moon; he wasn't sure, but he found the ocean calming in a way he hadn't before. Eagerness sparked in his chest while he climbed down to the water, sand falling into his sneakers. A few boats speckled the far horizon, white lights like stars.

Voices carried in the wind, normal for a populated shoreline. As he crossed the cool sand, his shoes stopped slipping once he reached the wet parts; he opted to sit where the sand was dry, the shift of the tide barely touching his shoes. Closer like this, the horizon was bigger, darker, and the wind showed signs of a biting cold. He shivered and let his head go blank, letting the night swallow him while the ocean stuffed his ears like cotton.

His mind wandered. He listened and occasionally traced lines into the sand with his fingertips. The cool night cleared his head, and he didn't shake out of it until he realized the tide was wetting his toes. He thought about taking them off and getting his feet wet, but he didn't want to deal with the sand.

He sort of wanted to nap, but he had to get Sal's bike back.

"Fancy seeing you here, samurai."

Keith jumped to his feet and flung sand at the voice. Lance was laughing while he protected his face, shadowed in the dark.

"What the _fuck_?" Keith hissed at Lance's silhouette, "Where did you come from?"

"Dock party." Lance grinned, hands in his pockets. His eyes reflected the bonfire in the distance.

Keith turned and stared - indeed right past the dock was a bonfire, bright in the evening.

Lance flopped next to him, barefoot. He carelessly extended his toes into the tide, "You can join if you want. Free booze. Couple a' fairies though, they might be a little much for you. I dunno."

"I'm borrowing a bike," Keith fibbed, "I gotta get it back."

"Fair enough." Lance hummed, and sat with him, watching the distant boats crawl across the dark horizon. 

It was weird that Lance was here. Keith wasn't used to people he knew appearing out of nowhere. Well. Sort of. "Is that how you found me?" Keith asked, not looking at Lance, "Fairies?"

Lance shrugged, warm by Keith's side, "Probably. We've changed location three times. Once in the middle of someone's backyard. We left them Mardi Gras beads and probably traumatized the dog."

Keith laughed through his nose, feeling the breeze ruffling his hair against his cheeks. "How do you befriend fairies?"

Lance splashed the water, grinning mildly, "You don't. And never, ever give them your name."

Keith looked at the fire and saw some figures idling by it. They seemed people-shaped and sized. He turned back to Lance. "I thought that was a myth."

"Depends on the fairy." Lance propped himself on his hands, cocked his head and studied Keith's face, "You're still new to this."

Keith's nose scrunched, "How old are you? And _what_ are you? I've never seen you _do_ anything."

Lance's lips curved and Keith saw something flash in Lance's eyes before Lance chose to unsubtly change the conversation. He hopped to his feet, dusting sand off his jeans, "Whelp, that's my cue," he said loudly, "I think they're getting ready to leave again, anyway."

If Keith was being honest, he'd wanted to ask Lance that question for a while and was a little put off by the dismissal. "Rude." Keith said.

Lance started to walk away, pausing to look over his shoulder, "Sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm good." Keith said, not excited in the least at the idea of navigating strangers. He paused, "I could probably give you a lift back to the apartments ..."

Lance grinned and spun to kick some water at him, "Aww, thanks. The fairy babes are hot tonight, though. No offense."

Keith rolled his eyes and rubbed the salt water off his face, not even a little bothered, "Have fun with that."

"I will!" Lance said cheerily, "Be careful on the way back. Don't get lost."

Keith watched Lance wander off, the bonfire significantly smaller than before. He sat at the shoreline a while longer, before he realized he was bored and should head back. It occurred to him later that he never smelled smoke from the bonfire.

Sneaking back into the apartment some hours later, it was five in the morning and all of his noises felt very loud. 

Keith sucked in a breath, bristling in surprise when he saw Shiro sitting upright on the couch, staring forward.

_Not Shiro_ , Keith thought, taking in the ghostly blue glow from Shiro's body. Shiro stared forward at nothing. It would be less disconcerting if the television had at least been on.

Keith approached him carefully, sniffing for anything - an actual scent that came with a body; distress, _anything_ to mark the projection as real. There was nothing. Shiro turned his head to look at Keith as he approached, eyes pupilless and a brighter blue than the rest of his body.

He was crying.

Keith sighed and held out his hand, "Come on. I'm safe."

Shiro remained silent and didn't take his hand, but he stood. Keith moved slowly and the ghost followed, leading him to the Shiro who slept in his bed. The sleeping Shiro, the real one, slept peacefully, like nothing was wrong. Keith looked to him, and to the sightless Shiro who followed him. Keith led him so they both stood at the bed.

"It's okay," Keith said softly, "Go back to sleep."

The ghostly Shiro stared with his empty eyes, but Keith watched the projection fade until only one Shiro remained. Keith looked at Shiro's sleeping body, and didn't think there was much difference from before. 

When Keith finally slept, he dreamt of a dark ocean, cold but peaceful, still and silent.

* * *

Whatever Allura said, Keith did not _scream_ when he first saw her, she was a _liar_ and a _fake_.

What _did_ happen, was upon the elevator opening as he traveled to his floor, a seven-and-half-foot-tall Sphinx waited for him in the hallway, towering and unfamiliar.

Some garbled words came from his mouth non-screaming manner. Pidge's suppression potion fail; ears sprang from his hair and his tail from his backside, unfortunately getting caught in his pants, and his hair shifted to fur in places that humans normally had hair but thicker.

He denied poofing like a frightened kitten. No one had proof, _shut up Shiro you saw nothing_.

"Charming," the sphinx said with a smile quirking from her lips. She stepped away from the elevator to let Keith past. White hair tumbled in curls over her shoulders, a top stylishly flowed to cover her waist, though her lion-half was undressed like most half-creatures preferred. 

Shiro stepped out from behind her, giving Keith a _look_ , "Allura, this is Keith. Keith, Allura. We're about to pay Matt a visit."

Allura regarded Keith, who's hair was slowly defuzzing to normal levels, "Oh, your brother? It's nice to meet you," she sniffed the air and gave Keith a sheepish smile, "I apologize for making your suppression spell fail. I'd be able to reapply it, except it's a potion?"

Keith's ears twitched upward with interest and curiosity as he took a better look at Allura. He stepped out of the elevator to let the door shut, irately rubbing at his face where his fur had grown to cover his cheeks, "Yeah, it's Matt's, sister's recipe, actually. What are you doing with Matt?"

Shiro started to answer but Allura politely spoke over him, "Shiro asked me to see if a non-magic solution is feasible." She pawed at the floor as she visibly thought of how to explain their task, "I can do a lot of things, but also sense how much magic is actually involved in a spell."

And if that wasn't a hopeful start to fixing Matt, Keith didn't know what was. He flinched though, because his tail tried to wag while half-stuck in his pants leg. He looked at Shiro, "Can I come?" Before Shiro could answer, Keith thought better of it, "Never mind, I'll be down there after I change clothes. How did you get Pidge to agree with this?"

Shiro sighed, "I agreed to a blood sample."

Keith didn't laugh but his mouth twitched like he wanted to.

Shiro scowled, "Okay, fuzzy."

Keith bared his teeth and growled at him because he could, only to have Shiro push him out of the way and down the hallway while Shiro and Allura waited for the elevator again.

* * *

Pidge honk-laughed when she saw Keith's half-transformed state. Keith resisted flipping her off and scowled, letting his ears flatten back. With Allura in the already messy apartment, the livingroom was crowded and there was nowhere to hide. He made his way to the corner of the couch that was his, next to Allura, who lounged on her lion-half on the floor, neatly holding a cup of tea that Keith suspected Shiro had made. 

Keith blinked when he noticed Matt sprawled across Allura's length of back. Matt opened one eye and stretched indulgently and winked at him. Shiro popped back out of the kitchen holding more tea, and Pidge's expression shifted to daggers at him. Oh, Shiro didn't tell Pidge that Allura was coming. Great.

"I do apologize for startling you like that, Keith," Allura said over her cup, "Pidge was saying she hadn't quite gotten her potions' endurance and lifespan figured out."

Pidge begrudgingly accepted some tea from Shiro, curled defensively in her armchair. Shiro sat next to Keith on the couch and handed him his own cup. 

"I only have to take it once a week instead of every day," Keith said, hands curling around one of Pidge's mugs, "I just wish it didn't taste so disgusting."

Pidge sniffed, "Ungrateful."

"With all due respect," Allura said gently. The patio door was open and ruffled her hair. "I don't understand your aversion to magic."

Shiro shifted uncomfortably and Keith glanced at Matt again, who was still lounging.

"It's not that," Pidge sighed. She sunk into her chair and clutched her mug, "I spent a long time focused on science, mathematics and logic, you know, explainable things. It's what I'm good at." She frowned and looked down at her tea, studying her reflection while the room listened, "Then one day it's like, surprise bitch, you're a witch! And it brought into question all my achievements. Did I have a way with technology because I can magic it the way I want? Did all my science experiments go right because I magic'd the results to fit my hypothesis? With magic in the picture, all my controls are thrown out of wack. How do I measure the amount of magic involved in any one thing?"

Allura tilted her head thoughtfully, "You help Keith, though."

"And that pisses me off!" Pidge sat up and jerked her cup, tea splashing on her hands. She looked at Keith, "No offense."

"None taken." Keith shrugged.

"How come Keith goes through a magical girl sequence every full moon? ("Hey," Keith protested. He elbowed Shiro when he snickered at him.) How does that work? _Why_?" Pidge growled with frustration before she realized she was getting worked up. She tried to pull back, "So I decided I wouldn't use my magic for _anything_."

"Oh." Allura frowned knowingly.

"I didn't know." Pidge's shoulders hunched. "Matt and I got drunk one night and he started daring me to try some spells because," she sighed, "I couldn't _not_ look at spellbooks and stuff. I'm too curious. So we were having fun blowing stuff up and transforming shit, and then I turned him into a cat."

She rocked her head back and looked at the ceiling, "It's like the spell is gone from my memory and I can't find the book I found it in. I don't know if that was part of the spell itself, or if I cast something with too much power behind it because I'd gone so long without expending those energies."

Allura's tail flickered and she tilted her head at Pidge, "I bet you physically felt better."

Pidge grumped, "I did. Until I found Matt."

"Speaking of," Allura said, and set her cup on Pidge's table. She glanced over her shoulder, "I'm afraid I must ask the young man on my rump to remove himself. A normal cat I could abide, but you are not a normal cat."

Matt made a surprise trill, flailed a bit before rebalancing to sulk off Allura's back with his head to the ground. He skittered over to Pidge.

Allura laughed softly while Matt took solace in Pidge's lap. "I know this is a matter of pride, miss Pidge," Allura started, and Pidge drooped. "But I think we should let Matt decide if I take a look at him. I would only be able to tell you what kind of magics were used but, it might help you find a new starting point."

Pidge glanced at Shiro, whose gaze skittered away. Keith listened quietly. She looked at Matt in her lap, who was looking questioningly at her. "It's up to you," she said reluctantly.

Matt hesitated, but pushed his forehead into Pidge's hand. She let him hold it - his only way of giving her a hug - and hopped off her lap to trot to Allura and sit himself in front of her. He was dwarfed by the Sphinx. 

She smiled at him and leaned to touch his forehead. Matt's eyes blinked closed.

Her fingertips glowed white, eyes focused on the young man in front of her. A moment passed and she pulled away. Matt made confused 'prrp' noise and wobbled. When his eyes blinked open he moved under the coffee table.

Allura looked at her fingers like she was reading them, "It's a strong spell, but there should a counterspell." Allura's eyebrows raised, "This was cast internally, which means the spell came from your own magical energies, Pidge, as opposed to magical ingredients. You were likely tired afterwards, which is maybe why you didn't realize what had happened until the next day." Allura rubbed her fingers together, and her tail thumped behind her, "This is not an illusion. Essentially, he is a cat right now. I'm unsure of the permanency should he remain a cat."

Allura looked at the young man who was a cat hiding under the table. He seemed unsettled. "I wouldn't recommend letting him remain like this for much longer. He's already adopting cat-like behavior, although his mind is largely there." Allura nodded at Pidge, who was listening carefully, "He is not angry at you."

Pidge's eyebrows raised, "You can read his mind?"

"Of a sorts," Allura's lips curved, "Magic is highly tied with emotions, past and present. This kind of spell..." she tilted her head thoughtfully, "If I didn't know any better, I'd call this a trickster's spell. It was not cast with evil intent."

Keith had been listening while looking at his mug, "Like fae," he mumbled.

"Like fae," Allura agreed, nodding at Keith. She looked back at Pidge, "Would you like to know what kind of witch you are?"

"I--" Pidge seemed startled by the question, "I don't know ... if that would matter--"

"It does." Allura said, pushing past Pidge's hesitancy, "You're a plant witch. Your strengths lie in nature. This doesn't mean you can't use other magics."

Pidge frowned, "Ew, nature."

Allura laughed, "If you got a job as a gardener, I'm sure you would be very fortuitous."

* * *

Keith left the conversation shortly after Allura's reading and waited outside Pidge's door in the hallway. He felt like a creeper, but he needed to clear his head and gain the nerve to talk to Allura.

When she stepped out of Pidge's apartment in the middle of a sentence, she froze and regarded Keith briefly. Shiro and Pidge were arguing about something in the background, so she stepped out and quietly shut the door. She was holding her cellphone.

"Ah-um." Keith said elegantly.

"Did you have a question for me?" Allura asked patiently.

Keith's ears drooped and he fidgeted, "Have you heard... of there being any kind of cure ... for," he gestured to himself, "This?"

Pity flickered in Allura's expression, and no, he hated that. He shouldn't have asked -- "Was it traumatic?" She asked.

Keith frowned, "Does it matter?"

Allura nodded.

"Not." He rubbed his neck and tried to think of how to explain things without launching into the whole story, "It was to save my life."

"Then that's hard." Allura started to reach for his face, pausing when he jerked backwards. She retracted her hand, "May I?" She asked.

Keith gathered himself and nodded. Her fingertips touched his forehead, cool and soft, and immediately he felt a pressure in his head, like he was about to get a headache, or had a headcold. He met her eyes, looking for any reaction, and saw that her eyes glowed faintly white, but her pupils were naturally blue and pink.

She took a beat longer than with Matt, but she pulled away after a minute, fingers glowing white and pupils fading back to clear blue and pink.

She sighed, "There's cases of new werewolves staying human," she glanced at Keith's sudden perk and shook her head, "Minutes new. Before it has a chance to set." She rubbed her fingers together, "I can see you had a fatal wound to your left side. Whoever changed you did so anticipating you would heal. They were correct."

Keith's heart sunk.

"Your very makeup has changed. To destroy your wolf would destroy you. Blood magic--"

"--is irreversible." Keith spat, having heard the same thing over and over the last few years.

Allura hung her head, "I'm sorry. It's as much a part of you as my lower half is of me," she gestured to the giant lion body that gave her most of her height.

"No it's..." Keith lowered his eyes and started to turn, "I knew. Thanks, it," he looked at the elevator at the end of the hallway, "It was somewhat validating to hear it from a new person."

Allura didn't say anything as he fled, merely turning to pace to the other end of the hallway.

In the elevator, Keith pressed the top floor, glaring at its dingy yellow buttons as he ascended. Something panged in his chest, and he swung his foot around to kick the elevator wall.

That was that. It was time to focus on the things he could fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is meandering but I'm having fun with it
> 
> please let me know what you think
> 
> [Tumblr](http://mattysones.tumblr.com)   
>  [AskFM](https://ask.fm/mattysones)


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